Chapter 31 — Three Years Later
Everyone POV
Three years passed like a blink in the grand scheme of the seas, where empires rose and fell with the tides. Yet for those who lived them—day by day, wave by wave—every moment had been an adventure etched deep into the soul. Laughter echoed across sun-dappled decks, battles left scars that told stories of triumph, and quiet nights under starry skies wove bonds tighter than any rope. The world outside churned with whispers of impending chaos, but within their little bubble of family and folly, time had been kind. Or at least, as kind as it could be when your family included a mischievous thief, a culinary wizard in training, a self-proclaimed goddess with a flair for the dramatic, a no-nonsense mother figure, and a being of unfathomable power who somehow managed to trip over his own feet during dance parties. Yes, these three years had been a whirlwind of growth, mishaps, and unbreakable love.
Nami
The world had started whispering her name with a mix of awe and trepidation: "Cat Burglar Nami." It wasn't just for her nimble fingers that could pick a lock faster than a fish could swim upstream—no, her reputation now stemmed from her razor-sharp mind and the maps that flowed from her hands like poetry from a bard. Kingdoms fought wars with less precision than the ink strokes she laid upon parchment, charting hidden currents, forgotten islands, and treacherous reefs that even the most seasoned navigators dared not approach. Her clima-tact had evolved too, no longer just a tool for weather tricks but a symphony of storms she conducted with effortless grace.
But tonight, as she lounged lazily on Sunny's broad shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around her waist like a living anchor, it wasn't her burgeoning fame that brought the sly grin to her lips. No, that smile was reserved for the stolen treasures that glittered brighter than any gold: fleeting moments of stolen glances across the deck, passionate kisses under the moonlight that left her breathless, and those lazy nights wrapped in his warmth, where the world faded away and it was just them. She liked the world calling her a thief—after all, hadn't she stolen Sunny's heart, piece by piece? It started innocently enough, with a wink here and a teasing remark there, but over three years, she'd claimed it all, leaving him utterly smitten.
One particularly memorable heist came to mind as she traced lazy circles on his chest. They'd docked at a bustling port town, where a pompous merchant lord boasted a vault of ancient maps said to lead to untold riches. Nami's eyes had sparkled like beri coins at the news. "Sunny, darling," she'd purred, batting her eyelashes dramatically, "would you mind causing a little distraction? Nothing too flashy—just enough to make the guards forget their own names."
Sunny, ever the indulgent one, had grinned and obliged. What followed was a comedy of errors: he "accidentally" knocked over a fruit stand, which led to a chain reaction of tumbling crates, squawking chickens, and one very unfortunate guard slipping on a banana peel straight into a fountain. Amid the chaos, Nami slipped in and out like a shadow, emerging with the maps tucked under her arm. Later, as they sailed away, she presented one to Sunny—a detailed chart of a romantic, secluded island. "Your reward," she said with a wink. "For being the best distraction a girl could ask for." He laughed, pulling her close, and they spent the evening poring over it together, dreaming of future escapades. Yes, life with Sunny was a treasure hunt all its own.
Nojiko
Nojiko had transformed from a girl dabbling in curious kitchen experiments to a culinary force that could silence even the rowdiest tavern full of drunken pirates. Her dishes weren't just food; they were symphonies of flavor, each bite a harmonious blend of textures and tastes that left diners begging for more. Sunny had spoiled her rotten with the rarest ingredients imaginable: succulent cuts of Sea King meat hauled from the depths after epic battles, exotic spices carried across half the world on trade winds, and fruits that grew only on mythical islands, their juices bursting with flavors no mortal tongue could describe.
It hadn't always been smooth sailing, though. At first, her attempts were legendary disasters that provided endless fodder for family laughter. She burned stews to charcoal, over-salted sauces until they could preserve a mummy, and once, in a fit of experimental zeal, created a dessert that literally exploded in a shower of whipped cream and berries, coating the entire kitchen—and Sunny—in sticky sweetness. "What in the seas was that?!" Aqua had howled, doubled over in laughter, while Nami snapped photos with a den-den mushi for "blackmail material." Nojiko had laughed until tears streamed down her face, wiping flour from her cheeks. "Okay, okay, lesson learned—no more mixing volatile fruits with baking soda!"
But three years later, her cooking had become art, each meal a love letter etched in flavors. To Bell-mère, who had once struggled to feed them on meager rations, scraping by with whatever the tangerine groves provided. And to Sunny, who always smiled even when her early dishes nearly set the ship ablaze. He'd sneak seconds—or thirds—when he thought no one was looking, his eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. One evening, after a particularly grueling day of training, Nojiko prepared a feast: grilled Sea King steaks marinated in a secret blend of herbs, served with a side of roasted vegetables that crunched just right, and a dessert of tangerine-infused custard that melted on the tongue.
As Sunny polished off his plate, he leaned back with a contented sigh. "Nojiko, if I weren't already head over heels for all of you, this would seal the deal." She blushed, her chest swelling with quiet pride, but couldn't resist teasing. "Oh? So it's my cooking you love, not me?" He pulled her into his lap, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Both. Definitely both." Moments like these made all the kitchen mishaps worth it—the warmth of family, the joy of creation, and the simple pleasure of watching her loved ones savor her efforts.
Aqua
Aqua was still unapologetically Aqua—dramatic to the core, fiery as a volcano, competitive like a gladiator in the arena, and prone to childish bursts that could rival a toddler's tantrum. But oh, how her power had grown! Three years of adventures had honed her abilities to something truly awe-inspiring, a force that could bend the seas to her will or shatter mountains with a flick of her wrist. Yet, for all her might, she remained the comic relief of the group, her antics leaving everyone in stitches.
One unlucky pirate family learned this the hard way during a chance encounter on a foggy island. Their captain, a burly man with a mustache that looked like it could sweep floors, boasted loudly about his Paramecia Devil Fruit powers, waving them around like victory banners. "Behold, the mighty Leaf-Leaf Fruit! My blades can cut through anything—steel, stone, even the wind itself!" He unleashed a storm of razor-sharp leaves, swirling like a green tornado straight at Aqua.
She didn't even flinch. Instead, she struck a pose, hands on hips, as if auditioning for a theater role. The moment the first leaf touched her skin, it withered like wet paper in the rain, crumbling to dust. The rest followed suit, falling in a pathetic heap at her feet, looking more like autumn compost than deadly weapons.
"Eh?!" the pirate shrieked, his eyes bulging like overripe tomatoes. "What's happening?! My leaves! My precious, unstoppable leaves!"
Aqua tilted her head, smirking with exaggerated innocence. "Ohhh… did I forget to mention? Devil Fruits don't work on me. Oopsie-daisy!" She burst into laughter so hard she nearly toppled over, clutching her sides. "Leaves! Against me! Hahaha! What's next, grass? Or maybe the Paper-Paper Fruit? I'd just doodle on it!"
The pirate's crew stared in stunned silence, then one by one, they started snickering—until their captain turned red as a beet and charged at her with his fists. Aqua dodged effortlessly, tripping him with a casual wave that summoned a puddle under his feet. He face-planted into the mud, emerging looking like a drowned rat. "You... you monster!" he sputtered.
"Monster? Me?" Aqua gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "I'm a goddess, thank you very much! And you're just... leafy." She laughed again, this time summoning a tiny whirlpool that spun the captain around like a top before depositing him back on his ship. The crew fled in terror, but not before Aqua yelled after them, "Tell your friends—Aqua says hi, and bring better fruits next time!"
Sunny, watching from the sidelines, rubbed his forehead in mock exasperation, trying—and failing—to stifle his own laughter. "She's unstoppable… and utterly unbearable sometimes." But in his eyes shone unbridled pride and love, the kind that dove deeper than even Aqua's vast oceans. Her comedy wasn't just for show; it lightened the heaviest days, turning potential disasters into hilarious tales retold around the dinner table.
Another classic Aqua moment came during a "training session" that devolved into chaos. Determined to prove she was the "strongest swimmer ever," she challenged Sunny to a race across a calm belt. "Loser has to do the winner's chores for a week!" she declared, puffing out her chest. Sunny, amused, agreed—but halfway through, Aqua "accidentally" summoned a school of fish that tickled her relentlessly, causing her to flail and splash like a beached whale. "No fair! Fish betrayal!" she wailed, emerging victorious only because Sunny was too busy laughing to swim straight. Nami and Nojiko watched from the shore, rolling their eyes but grinning ear to ear. Aqua's childish energy was infectious, a re
minder that even in a world of peril, joy could bubble up like a spring.
Bell-mère
Bell-mère had become the quiet anchor of their unconventional family, a steady presence amid the whirlwind of personalities. She watched her three girls bloom like flowers in a storm-tossed garden: Nami's cunning intellect sharpening like a blade, Nojiko's culinary craft evolving from clumsy experiments to masterful creations, and Aqua's wild strength tempered by bursts of hilarious immaturity. Though Bell-mère teased and scolded them as always— "Nami, stop swindling every merchant we meet!" or "Aqua, for the love of the seas, act your age!"—her heart remained steady, a beacon of unwavering support.
She had worried about them once, back when the world seemed too vast and dangerous for her daughters to navigate. Worried about their choices, their futures, the shadows of their pasts lingering like ghosts. But now, three years on, she worried less. Not because danger had vanished—with Sunny around, trouble seemed to magnetize to them like iron to a lodestone—but because she saw the radiant glow in her daughters' eyes, the spark of happiness that outshone any storm.
And Sunny… oh, she'd long stopped questioning what he was to them all. A protector with power that could level islands? A partner who shared stolen moments with each of them? A vital piece of their family puzzle, fitting seamlessly into the gaps? Maybe all of it, wrapped in one enigmatic package. She accepted it, though not without her signature crossed arms and smirking glances whenever she caught them in tender embraces.
"Don't think I don't notice, you little lovebirds," she muttered one evening, spotting Sunny and Nami sharing a quiet kiss under the tangerine trees. "At least you're happy—and not getting into too much trouble." Sunny chuckled, offering her a respectful nod. "Couldn't do it without you, Bell-mère. You're the glue holding us together." She waved him off, but her smile betrayed her warmth.
Bell-mère's own growth was subtler: she'd taken up gardening again, expanding the tangerine groves on their island hideout into a lush paradise. It was her way of grounding them all, a reminder of simpler times amid the chaos. And when Aqua "helped" by accidentally flooding the garden with a misplaced wave? Bell-mère's scolding was half-hearted, ending in shared laughter as they replanted together. In this family, even mistakes became cherished memories.
Sunny
Sunny hadn't changed because of endless battles or desperate bids for survival—he didn't need to. Even sealed behind his six cells, his strength remained a force that could terrify the world if fully unleashed. With them partially unlocked, he could dismantle Australia-level threats without breaking a sweat, his power a quiet hum beneath the surface that everyone around him sensed like an impending thunderstorm. Pirates who crossed their path learned quickly: challenge Sunny, and you'd be lucky to limp away with your ship intact.
But what truly made him smile wasn't his immense power or the thrill of victory. It was love—pure, boundless, and multifaceted. He adored them all, every quirky side shining like facets of a diamond. Nami's sly grin when she outwitted a greedy merchant, leaving him penniless and perplexed. Nojiko's proud glow as he licked her plates clean, savoring every bite like it was ambrosia. Aqua's shameless laughter, even when she fainted from sheer overwhelming happiness during a particularly ridiculous prank war. And Bell-mère's steady presence, grounding them all with her wisdom and wry humor.
He spoiled them without hesitation or regret: showering them with treasures unearthed from ancient ruins, whisking them on spontaneous adventures to hidden coves, stealing kisses that lingered like sweet wine, and sharing quiet nights under the stars where whispers of dreams filled the air. To Sunny, the vast world could wait; these women were his world, his sun, moon, and stars all rolled into one chaotic, beautiful constellation.
And yet, deep inside, Sunny felt a familiar restlessness stirring like a distant rumble of thunder. The seas had been calm for three years—too calm, suspiciously so. He could sense the world shifting beneath the surface, the threads of destiny twisting and knotting toward something monumental. The canon events loomed on the horizon: Luffy would set sail soon, his rubbery enthusiasm igniting the seas with chaos, alliances fracturing, wars brewing, and the very foundations of the world shaking like a ship in a maelstrom.
Sunny chuckled softly to himself one night, brushing a stray lock of Nami's hair aside as she dozed peacefully on his chest, her breathing a gentle rhythm against his heart. The others slept nearby—Nojiko curled up with a cookbook, Aqua sprawled dramatically across a hammock, snoring like a contented dragon, and Bell-mère keeping watch with a cigarette glowing in the dark. "When that day comes," he murmured to the stars, "I'll be ready. We'll all be ready. And it'll be one hell of an adventure."
✨ The Cat Burglar. The Chef. The Goddess. The Mother. The Sun. Together, they waited for the storm to begin—not with fear, but with love, laughter, and an unquenchable fire in their hearts, ready to turn even the fiercest gales into tales of triumph and hilarity.